


Cookies Are Made Of Butter And Love

by RenGoneMad



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aggressive Abuse Of Formatting, Fluff, Friendship, Future Fic, Kind of a Neighbor AU, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, background kurodai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 10:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14542899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenGoneMad/pseuds/RenGoneMad
Summary: Every week on his off day Tooru wouldambushcoincidentally run into Suga on the latter’s way back from his morning jog.(A kind-of-neighbor-kind-of-baker future fic filled with fluff and adorableness. Better summary to come.)





	Cookies Are Made Of Butter And Love

**Author's Note:**

> So this started because 4_37am mentioned wanting a gentle, caring OiSuga fic. It was going to be a short one-shot of fluff and love and it somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic?? I'm going to upload one or two chapters a week until it's done. I know exactly how it's going to go, so I should get it out in pretty short order. I hope you all enjoy reading it!

The scalding water ran in rivulets down the smooth expanse of his back, soothing the tight ache of his trapezius. The steam helped relieve some of his tension and the sweltering temperature kissed his skin in red as it distracted him from the burn in his muscles. Tooru filled his lungs with the heavy, humid air and let the scent of citrus calm him. He didn’t leave the shower until the water had turned luke-warm and he was sure his utility bill was going to be at least a thousand yen higher. 

He wiped his limbs and torso with a soft towel before turning its attention to his water-darkened hair. He patted the locks gently (God forbid he get any split ends) to get the worst of the water before stepping out of the bathroom and padding naked across the cold wood floor to his bedroom. He slipped on a pair of grey pajama pants printed with green, bug-eyed alien faces and an oversized t-shirt that said “I Want To Believe”. He wrapped the towel around his neck and picked up his hair dryer when a loud ring sounded through the apartment. 

Tooru paused for a moment, a small crease forming between his brows. He wasn’t expecting anyone, which meant there were only three likely culprits: Iwaizumi (this seemed improbable since he had a key to Tooru’s apartment and would have just let himself in), Hanamaki and Matsukawa (this was the most likely option, although they would normally text first), or a salesman. Normally, Tooru was very particular about his appearance in public, but in the first two cases, the people involved had seen him in much worse, and in the last, Tooru couldn’t bring himself to particularly care, so he just slid on his glasses before heading to the door. 

He turned the lock and opened the door, expecting Hanamaki and Matsukawa to barge in the second he did so. Instead, he was greeted with the pleasant smile of a man ten centimeters shorter than him and much less comfortably dressed. Tooru’s eyes trailed from soft, silver hair to the dark beauty mark under one eye and down to a warm cream knit sweater and dark brown slacks.

The first thing that struck him was that the stranger was beautiful. It wasn’t the sort of bold, striking beauty of a model or actor, but a slender, soft sort of pretty that made it hard to look away. The gentle smile on his full, pale pink lips was light and the second thought that came to Tooru’s mind was refreshing. That brought a third thought, one that was less a word and more of a feeling: deja vu. 

“Hello, I’m Sugawara. I just moved into 302.” He greeted pleasantly, seeming completely unfazed by Tooru’s overly casual state of dress. Tooru noted the small red box Sugawara held outstretched in his hands before a much more important realization took the forefront of his mind, distance memories sparked by some unknown trigger. Tooru looked back up to the man’s face and gasped. He raised a hand and pointed at Sugawara in a gesture as dramatic as it was rude. 

“Mr. Refreshing!” Tooru exclaimed. His tone came out some strange mixture between shocked and accusatory. Sugawara blinked a few times. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly and his brows drew together in puzzlement. 

“Do I know you?” Sugawara asked, head tilting to the side slightly in the perfect picture of confusion.

“You were Karasuno’s reserve setter, right? You played with Tobio-chan.” The memories from a half decade ago came to the forefront and the more Tooru looked at him, the more Tooru was certain this was the Mr. Refreshing that had cost him the Nationals in his third year. Sugawara, for his part, seemed completely nonplussed, although he nodded hesitantly. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” He trailed off for a moment before hazel eyes widened almost comically and his lips parted in a rounded ‘o’ of surprise. “Oikawa?”

“The one and only.” Tooru returned with a smug smile.

“I’m sorry,” Sugawara repeated, one hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind his ear almost nervously. The rapidly approaching sunset dyed his hair in a smooth gradient of pink and orange hues and Tooru decided his earlier assessment was correct; Sugawara was beautiful. Although now his beauty was not at all somewhat diminished by the unpleasant memories of his third year loss against the rival team. “I didn’t recognize you at first. You look different with glasses on.” 

Tooru looked down at himself and realized his own appearance a bit belatedly. The strange cold front they’d been having the last few days had dried the ends of his hair into a frizzy mess and he noticed a hole in one of the alien’s eyes that he was sure hadn’t been there when he washed it a few days ago. He was barefooted and in a t-shirt he’d had since first year of high school and he probably looked more like a poor college kid than a renowned professional volleyball player. 

“Ah. Well, I suppose you can be forgiven considering the unexpected situation.” Tooru said, waving a hand dismissively. He blatantly ignored the hypocrisy that he had been completely unaware of Sugawara’s name up until two minutes ago. “More importantly, are you still in contact with my cute little kouhai?” 

“Kageyama-kun?” Sugawara shifted his height to his other foot a bit uncomfortably. Tooru wasn’t sure if that was because of the topic of discussion or if he was less than pleased to see Tooru again. “We talk on occasion. He signed on with JT Thunders, so I’ve only seen him a few times since he moved to Hiroshima.” 

Tooru knew Tobio was with the Thunders now, of course. After their win over the Panasonic Panthers last year and Karasuno’s victory at Nationals, Tooru had known JT would scout him and Tobio would undoubtedly accept. Tooru was thoroughly anticipating crushing Tobio in the Fall tournaments, and he would take immense pleasure in doing so. He still had a score to settle. If there was one thing that Tooru was good at (other than volleyball and looking good), it was holding a grudge.

“Hmm. I’m sure Tobio-chan’s working himself half to death trying to surpass me.” Tooru hummed, the thought giving him a bit of sadistic pleasure even as it lit the fire under his competitive streak (a streak that just so happened to encompass every bone in his body). He hadn’t watched Karasuno’s winning match at Nationals, but he had heard the ending score, and he was grudgingly impressed. Not that he would ever tell Tobio that. Tooru leaned casually against his door frame, slipping his hands into the threadbare pockets of his pants. “And what about you? Do you still play?” 

“I played in the neighborhood league in Miyagi.” Sugawara said, tucking the small box under one arm. “I didn’t have time to play on my college team, and I was never good enough to be professional.” Tooru detected no bitterness in the words, only complete, unabashed honesty. “I just moved to Osaka, but I figured I’d probably join one here, as well.”

“Hmm. Why did you move here, then? Work?” He asked curiously. Osaka was a long way from Miyagi. Tooru honestly wasn’t sure why he was prolonging this conversation; he was tired from practice, his knee hurt, and he was honestly looking forward to just eating a convenience store bento and lazing on his couch watching Netflix for the rest of the night. But it wasn’t every day that he ran into someone from the past, and even if he didn’t have particularly fond memories of Karasuno, and even if Sugawara was a relative stranger (he couldn’t recall ever having a conversation with him before this), he found himself curious. 

Sugawara had been an interesting player. He wasn’t as skilled as Tooru, or a genius like Tobio. As far as setting went, he was probably just a bit above average. It had been his strategy and command of his teammates that had drawn Tooru’s attention back in high school. When Sugawara entered the court it was like the air itself changed, lightening and breathing new life back into his players. He had thoroughly destroyed the mental game Tooru had played with just his presence and a few slaps on the back, and he had easily predicted most of Tooru’s moves. His very being exuded kindness and some skeptical part of Tooru wanted to see if it was even possible to be as genuine as the man seemed.

“Sort of.” Sugawara leaned back, shifting his weight to his heels as his lips pursed in thought. “I’m a writer, and my publishing company has several offices, so technically I could have moved to almost any big city. I chose Osaka because Daichi and Kuroo live here.” 

“You know Tetsu-chan?” Tooru asked, chocolate eyes widening with surprise. They had both signed onto the Panthers at the same time. While Tooru found Kuroo’s choice in friends (namely their wing spiker Bokuto) to be a bit distasteful, he and Kuroo had developed a tense but friendly rapport of sorts. Their team members had long since learned to never go drinking with he and Kuroo together, because they somehow always got into a heated debate about conspiracy theories that ended up with affronted shrieks, strange dares, and intense hangovers. 

“We had training camps with Nekoma in high school.” Sugawara nodded and wrapped his arms around himself, likely to stave off a chill from the wind that was cooling with the rapid descent of the sun. “Plus, he’s dating Daichi, so I’m at their apartment more often than not.” Tooru finally connected the name Daichi with Karasuno’s previous captain and bit back his surprise that Kuroo had actually found someone willing to put up with his insufferable sense of humor. 

Sugawara continued before Tooru could speak. “I really need to get back so I can finishing unpacking, though. It’s nice to meet you again, Oikawa-kun.” Sugawara’s smile was polite. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around.” He held out the red box and Tooru took it. 

“Oh, don’t let me keep you, then.” He replied, answering the smile with one of his own automatically. He could see now that the lid of the box was clear plastic and inside were rows of what looked to be green cookies of some sort. “Thank you for the food, Sugawara-kun.”

“Suga,” the other man corrected quickly. “That’s what everyone calls me.” 

“Suga-chan.” Tooru’s smile widened to show pearly rows of teeth. “I hope we run into each other again, Suga-chan.”

Suga’s smile tightened minutely (probably at the use of -chan) before he nodded and left, disappearing behind the neighboring door. Tooru took one last look at the setting sun before retreating inside, ready to finally start his night of Netflix and cookies.

 

 

The next time they met was a couple weeks later when Tooru was coming home from the convenience store on his one day off a week. He always jogged and stretched in the morning, but Tooru was faithful about taking the afternoon entirely off. While his knee had healed since high school, it was still more susceptible to aches and reinjury, and Tooru didn’t want to face the coaches’ wrath if he had to miss practice for even a day--let alone what Iwa-chan would do to him. 

Two bags hung off of his right wrist as he walked, hands stuffed in the pockets of his windbreaker. The early summer air was warm enough now that it was hardly necessary, but Tooru had always been cold blooded (Iwa-chan would argue that this extended to his heart, too). The bags bounced against his thigh as he walked and he hummed some wordless pop tune to the beat. He was almost at the entrance to the apartment complex when he paused mid-note. A short (comparatively), dark figure was approaching him at a fast pace and Tooru recognized the glint of silver off the shadow’s head immediately. 

“Suga-chan!” He greeted, eyes and smile widening in excitement as the setter came within hearing distance. Tooru used the time it took for Suga to pull out his earphones to subtly take in Suga’s appearance. He was wearing blue running shoes, black volleyball shorts, and a thin, light blue t-shirt with the four character idiom _eshajōri_ on it in bold white strokes. Chocolate eyes followed a drop of sweat that ran down Suga’s pale neck and over his collarbone before it disappeared beneath the fabric. Tooru’s eyes travelled to Suga’s face and he focused on the dusting of red high on Suga’s cheekbones, flushed from exertion. 

Tooru ~~watched~~ did not watch Suga’s lips as they parted and formed around words. It took him a second to register the greeting and a moment longer before he remembered why he had stopped and waited for Suga. 

“Suga-chan,” Tooru drew the name out into a song. “I was hoping I’d run into you again!”

“Oh?” Suga quirked his head with a small smile. He was still breathing a bit heavily and his chest rose and fell quickly as he slowed to a walk beside Tooru, stuffing the white earbuds in the pockets of his shorts. 

“Yes! I wanted to ask what those cookies are called.”

“Ah. Those were matcha macaroons.” They entered the lobby and headed towards the stairs by some unspoken mutual agreement. Tooru normally took the elevator on his way back from practice, but all other times he climbed the three flights for the sake of cardio. “Did you like them?

“They were amazing, Suga-chan!” Tooru wasn’t exaggerating in the least and his eyes shone with the truthfulness of his statement. “You made them?”

“Mhm. I’m a stress baker.” He said with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I like to bake whenever I’m stuck on an idea when I write. It helps me organize my thoughts. Volleyball does that, too, of course, but it adds almost as much stress as it takes away.”

“So you bake when you’re stressed, hmm? Any chance you’ll be having another case of writer’s block any time soon?” Tooru asked with an entirely innocent flutter of his eyelashes. 

Suga glanced sideways at him before letting out a huff of laughter. “Why, Oikawa-kun, are you implying you want my work to suffer just so you can eat my food again?” He asked with a crooked smile and a glint in his hazel eyes. Tooru would say it was a smirk, but he wasn’t sure angels who baked little clouds of heaven in their spare time were capable of smirking.

“Of course not!” Tooru placed a hand to his chest in mock affront. “I am _appalled_ that you would think I could _ever_ wish you ill for _any_ reason. Even if it would benefit me. Greatly.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve wished all of Karasuno ill at some point. Very loudly, and publicly.” Suga raised one eyebrow.

“Beside the point,” Tooru countered quickly. “I am entirely past my childish ways.” He ignored the skeptical glance that earned him. “But I wouldn’t say no if you happened to have some sweets laying around that you just so happened to want to give away.” 

“Hmm… I have some snickerdoodles from yesterday left. I was going to give them to Daichi and Kuroo, but I suppose I could spare a few.” Suga hummed as he walked past Tooru’s door to his own. He disappeared inside and Tooru wondered what exactly snickerdoodles were while he waited. 

Suga returned after only a minute with a plastic bag filled with flat, light brown cookies. Tooru opened it eagerly and grabbed one, unabashedly sinking his teeth into the soft surface. Hints of vanilla, almond, and cinnamon exploded on his tongue as he chewed. A sigh of pleasure fell from Tooru’s lips as he tasted paradise. After several seconds of sheer bliss he finally swallowed. He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and looked at Suga with shining, reverent eyes. 

“Suga-chan,” Tooru began, his voice thick with happiness. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

 

 

Every week on his off day Tooru would ~~ambush~~ coincidentally run into Suga on the latter’s way back from his morning jog. If Suga was a stress baker then he had a ~~lot~~ of stress. He almost always had something freshly baked laying around his house: anything from macarons (which were apparently different from macaroons) to dorayaki to challah bread. They were inevitably delicious no matter what they were, but Tooru still gave unrequested feedback on which were his favorites and what flavors he wasn’t fond of.

“You know, typically, a relationship involves some degree of reciprocation.” Suga informed him as he held a bag of cream cheese brownies out to Tooru. “This seems a lot more like you just mooching off my kindness.”

“Mooching? Me?” Tooru asked with wide eyes. “Suga-chan, the pleasure of my company is well worth the price of a few measly sweets every week.”

“Measly?” Suga arched one pale brow. “Well, I suppose you don’t really need these measly sweets after all, do you, Oikawa-kun?” He withdrew his hand, taking the brownies with him and making to shut the door. 

“No!” Tooru panicked and managed to grab Suga’s wrist. It was warm and delicate under the grip of his long fingers. “I’m sorry, Suga-chan! Your desserts are _divine_ and entirely worth the gift that is my presence.”

Suga looked at him for a moment before breaking into peals of laughter. “Well, I suppose given the size of your enormous ego, that’s pretty high praise.” He giggled. Suga leaned on the door frame and Tooru, satisfied that he had saved himself from certain starvation (though not from several hundred empty calories he would have to run off later), let go of Suga’s wrist. 

He wanted to be annoyed with Suga for mocking him, but he found a smile tugging at his own lips even as he whined in protest. “Mean, Suga-chan! I’m only being honest. I have fangirls that ambush me at the conbini, you know.” He huffed in fake offense. “I’m sure _they_ would be more than happy to make brownies for me.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel…” Suga made to move back again, but this time Tooru was quicker and he grabbed the bag from Suga’s hand, clutching it to his own chest protectively. Suga grinned like the crow that caught the worm and Tooru had the distinct feeling the ~~angel~~ devil had anticipated that exact reaction. 

“I’m starting to think Mr. Refreshing doesn’t really suit you.” Tooru said with narrowed eyes. Suga tricked people with those soft, honest features and those innocent smiles and faux kind words. “You’re nowhere near as nice as you make yourself out to be.”

Suga just shrugged, mirth still playing on his lips. “And you’re nowhere near as charming as you’d like to think. I’ll keep your secret if you’ll keep mine.”

Tooru would later deny that the affronted squeak that rang through the summer air was his.

 

 

As it turned out, that was not the last secret Tooru would learn of Suga’s. It was a few weeks later when a loud shriek, a crash of something breaking, and a wail like a dying cat pierced through the opening credits of _UFOs: Seeing is Believing_ in quick succession. Tooru dropped his chopsticks into his stir fry and blinked in alarm, looking towards the wall that he shared with Suga’s apartment. 

He barely had time to slip on a t-shirt without any holes in it (changing out his pin-striped pajama pants would just have to wait until he had established that Suga was still alive) and slip on his outdoor shoes when his doorbell rang. Tooru stood and gripped his phone tightly, ready to call 110, just in case there was a crazy axe murderer waiting for him on the other side of the door. He took a deep breath and flung it open. 

Suga stood there, silver hair slightly mussed and pale cheeks flushed. Tooru’s eyes raked his appearance. He was wearing pink fleece pants with vanilla ice cream cones and an oversized grey shirt with a red outline of what Tooru dimly thought might be an American state on it. What was more concerning was the large, dark red stain blossoming on Suga’s lower abdomen.Tooru swallowed thickly, and _was that blood?_

He looked up at Suga with wide eyes and waited for an explanation. He didn’t have to wait long. “So, you know how you kind of owe me big time for keeping your sugar addiction fed the last three months?” Tooru couldn’t bring himself to argue. Suga’s hands rested on his hips and his hazel eyes stared at him with such seriousness that Tooru could only nod mutely. “Good. I need a favor.”

**Author's Note:**

> Note that this is FLUFF and there are no tags for violence or injury. Just sayin'. In case you were worried.  
> Also, this is Suga's shirt's meaning: 会者定離 eshajōri (e meeting + sha person + jō always + ri be separated)  
> Every meeting must involve a parting; Those who meet must part. (Origin: Buddhist scriptures). Noya gave it to him when he graduated high school.  
> Kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are highly appreciated! Thanks for reading this and the future chapters!


End file.
